Keep Me Safe
by StoryNeverTold
Summary: One shot. 7 months on, Ste gets a call regarding a tragic incident that has happened in one of the cells in Brendan's prison and Ste realises that maybe life without Brendan isn't worth living at all. Sad and contains mild drug use/suicide.


**A/N: First off, I want to apologise for the amount of one-shots I've been writing and the lack of chapter updates for 'Empire of Dirt'. The next chapter is almost finished. Also, it's hard for me to know when a fanfiction has been done before because due to my busy lifestyle and goddamn laziness I only read and follow 3 fanfictions (Much love and respect to Chips and Tessa) and I never venture onto the site, really. Apologises if it's been done. I'm not sure how pleased I am with the ending of this. It was written at 5am and I was tired and…. And recovering from a rather disturbing conversation with Hazel and April. This is dedicated to them. (This has not been proofread so I'm sorry for mistakes)**

Ste took a shaky breath, lowering the phone from his ear. The world was spinning and Ste could do nothing else but cling onto the kitchen counter to try and steady himself. He felt sick, dizzy, lost. He whimpered and dropped the phone, letting it clatter to the floor. His head was a mess and all he could hear were her words banging around inside his head, echoing like something from a nightmare. He begged and prayed in that split second to a God he didn't even believe in that this _was _a nightmare and he'd wake up, slick with sweat again, calling out for a man who was no longer beside him. But this didn't feel like his other nightmares. The rain outside streaking the window and the drowning sound of the TV in the background, all blurred by Ste's thoughts, proved that there was too much detail for this to be a dream – no matter how much he prayed. He felt warm arms wrap around his body, holding him, and suddenly his nostrils were filled with a familiar perfume. Amy was holding him.

Whether it was the sudden hit of sweet fragrance or the dizziness and the feeling of his world crumbling with the truth that caused this next motion, Ste didn't know. But what he did know was that he couldn't contain himself much longer, so he pulled out of Amy's grip and ran into the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet, retching and gagging – nothing really coming up but his morning coffee. He could hear Amy running after him but it felt like it was coming from somewhere else; from another world because nothing else felt _real _except him and her words on the phone. He was clammy and slick with sweat, his body trembling, his eyes tearing up as he hurled over the toilet, somehow finding other things to displace into the porcelain bowl.

_Ste, babe, there was a fight in one of the cells. Someone teasing him about Daddy… He flipped. They had a…. oh God, they had a knife…. I'm so sorry, Ste. Jesus, I'm so…. I'm so sorry… He…. I mean, he tried…. Jesus…but…_

Ste didn't hear much else. It all become nothingness; white noise. Each sound blurred into the next until all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, thudding hard against his ribcage – so hard it could've broken his ribs, Ste decided – and his blood slowing, running cold. He could've sworn his heart stopped. He could've sworn for that one second, everything just stopped. The whole fucking world stopped. He was dead. Brendan Brady was dead. It had been 7 months since Ste had last scene him and it was ridiculous, because he was probably never going to see him again anyway. He might has well have died on that balcony as far as their relationship was concerned.

But now, with him leaning over the toilet vomiting up nothing but water and bile and sobbing against the cold rim of the bowl – his whole body shivering, wracking with sobs that were too intense to even form tears – it mattered that he hadn't died on that balcony. His sobs were more like spasms, his whole body jerking and shaking with every shaky, impossible intake of breath. He could've sworn if he didn't catch his breath soon, he was going to die too. He couldn't even take a proper breath to make sure he stayed long enough to explain anything to Amy. Not like that mattered. Not like anything mattered but this, but him. Brendan.

His body was full of a burning, dark pain that didn't wain but instead grew every time Ste tried to think straight, tried to muster strength to turn to the worried woman stood in the doorway of the toilet. He felt weak. He was shivering from the cold yet his whole body was burning hot with pain and sweating from the retching. He sniffled and sat back against the radiator by the toilet, panting desperately, trying to hold onto himself. He could've sworn he was going to pass out.

She brought him a glass of water and he drank it, his hands shaking so badly that she had to hold the glass for him as if he was a child but he couldn't hold it down. Couldn't hold anything down and he was retching again.

"He's….." Ste tried to muster words, tried to form something but his thoughts were nothing but a mess and he forgot, for that moment, how to speak, how to string a sentence together. Because words, education, etiquette, morals, cleverness and just plain everyday thinking meant nothing. It counted for nothing in comparison to emotions. To pain and loss and grief and a love he was never ever going to get to hold again. Never going to get to experience again. "…he's….dead…."

He was sure Amy replied, sure she was being supportive despite the fact this was only a fleeting visit, but he couldn't work out what she said so all he could do was sob and cry out the man's name that he had called out so many times; in anger, in desperation, in passion, in climax, in pain, in loneliness after a nightmare and now. In loss. A name that would never have to roll from his tongue ever again.

Brendan was the man who had shaped him. The man who had helped Ste find who he was by taking him under his wing and nurturing him. He protected him and cared for him and above all of that he _loved him_. Unconditionally. He'd stand in front of a bullet for Ste and for the first time in Ste's life, he felt like he was the most important man in the whole world. In Brendan's world anyway. He was finally someone who was worth fighting for, worth dying for. Brendan was the man who looked at him like he wanted him so much it hurt. Looked at him like he was his first choice. Like there's nowhere else and no one else he'd rather waste his time on. He felt like he meant something and he wasn't just worthless. A mistake. An abortion that should've happened. For the first time in Ste's life, for the only time in Ste's life, he felt like all of his mother's words were wrong. He was worth something. He had a place. And that place was in Brendan's arms.

And now he was gone. Not just to prison. But gone. Just gone. Ste couldn't see him again even if he tried. He could never see him again, never speak to him again, never hear of him again. Because he was dead. He was gone and Ste was going to have to find a way to move on in this world without him. Bullshit. It was bullshit and it was impossible. He couldn't live on without Brendan – not when he was already dead inside.

-OXO-

It had been nearly 18 months since Cheryl had made that call on that dreadful, rainy October afternoon and Ste was… he was around. He was surviving. He had learnt what a world without Brendan was like and he had adapted to it. Found a way to make it through. Though _'making it through' _usually consisted of getting drunk and introducing himself as 'Steven' to some random stranger in a bar, taking him home, letting him fuck him hard, waking up with a hangover, grinning emptily at friends and agreeing to go out for drinks at the dog with them, laughing mindlessly at jokes that aren't even funny, going home to an empty flat, eating takeout and repeating. Always repeating. Everything was so dull, monotonous. Nothing felt real.

He sighed and leaned his chin on his hand, staring bleakly out at the club that was once _Chez Chez_, that was once filled with secret affairs, passion, sex, fear and a lot of flamboyant Irish-ness – the latter coming from Cheryl (most of the time). The deli was busy, customers coming in and out, demanding orders – mainly coffee – to assist them as they ventured out into the chill, icy rain and howling wind. They all did the same thing as they came in: shivered, rubbed their hands together, sniffled, wiped the cool water from their red faces before shaking the water off them and approaching the counter. Ste laughed to himself humourlessly as he took note of this.

The effects of the world were taking the toll on him, he could feel it in his bones. No matter how many people he took orders from, no matter how many people he served, nothing felt real. It was as if there was a tiny screen, a barrier, keeping him out of the world… just a tiny bit but enough to stop him from being there. Like he was surveying the world through a shop window. Even the familiar surroundings of the deli felt unreal. But he carried on, unrelenting

_Take the order_

_Make the coffee _

_Smile_

_Give them the coffee_

_Take the money_

_Open the till_

_Put the change in their hand_

_Smile again_

_They leave_

Another customer.

_Take the order_

_Make the coffee_

_Give them the coffee_

_Wasn't he supposed to smile just then?_

_Take the money_

_Open the till_

_Put the change in their hand _

_Let them leave_

_Wait… he has to smile. _

_Too late for that now. _

He couldn't even feel their hands brush his as they exchanged money. Work was mundane, it was monotonous. A conveyer belt of people waiting for coffee or food to fulfil basic human needs that were – in the end – meaningless. But he needed something boring and repetitive to take the edge off. The more monotonous the work, the more mind-numbing it was. Ah, another customer. He wouldn't forget to smile this time.

-OXO-

Doug switched the deli sign over to 'closed' just after 4pm and Ste sighed. The day was over and Ste would have to go home tonight and face the truth. Ste leaned on the wall and folded his arms, looking at Doug as he strolled towards him, so full of life since moving in with John Paul. The door opened and Ste was about to protest that they were closed until they saw Leanne and John Paul blunder in, grinning like idiots.

"Guuuys!" Leanne grinned and hopped onto the counter, sitting down on it. Ste wasn't in the mood, he could feel his skin prickling with annoyance at Leanne's harsh voice.

"Me and Leanne were out and there's this gay bar opening up in Chester, it's supposed to be really good and... I'm not much of a 'gay scene' person, but it's first 100 get a pass for free drinks and if we get there really early…" John Paul informed them, snaking his arm around Doug and kissing him gently.

Ste sighed. Going out and getting drunk didn't feel like such a bad idea, in all honesty. But going out and getting drunk _with friends_ was definitely off the table. Ste felt out of it, like he wasn't really up for…anything. The only problem was letting his friends down easily. Telling them that he wasn't in the mood and forcing a grin without them noticing his obvious low mood.

"Nah, I'm knackered, me…" Ste forced a grin and knew that it would pay off. Months of practice had taught him that.

"Hey, don't be a spoilsport, grumpy!" Doug nudged him playfully and smiled warmly. It was welcoming and Ste always felt happier around his best friend. Safer. Like he wasn't so alone. But that wasn't enough to warm the emptiness inside Ste so he just rolled his eyes and smiled back.

"No, I mean it…" Ste shrugged. "You guys should go have loads of fun though. I'm just gonna order takeout and go to bed, I think…"

"Ah, you need to get on the dating scene again!" Leanne frowned, kicking him gently with her foot. "I haven't seen you with a bloke since…" She brought her hands up to her face and shaped them as a moustache above her upper lip. "Know what I'm saying?!"

"Leanne!" Doug tutted and rolled his eyes.

Ste tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend that Leanne's words didn't touch him. But they did. It was a painful, sharp reminder of the man he had lost, the man he would never see again. A painful reminder of the things he missed. Like the feeling of that moustache tickling the back of his neck as Brendan kissed him while they fell asleep, post-orgasm. But the pain was obvious, a deep throbbing in the base of his stomach that shivered through his whole body like a shockwave of electricity.

"No, I know…" Ste nodded and forced his painful smile. "And I'm thinking about it. Getting meself a bloke… but… but I'm gonna sit tonight out. I wouldn't wanna weigh you all down by falling asleep in the car, eh? I'm gonna head off." He forced a laugh and they fell for it and laughed with him. Idiots.

He grabbed his coat and smiled, pushing past Doug, shrugging his coat on.

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah, Ste?" Doug smiled, watching him leave.

"Yeah." And then he was gone.

"He's come a long way since Brendan died, you know…" Doug leaned against John Paul and the others nodded in agreement. "I'm proud of him. He seems to be doing really well. He seems… I dunno… happy, I guess. He's a strong kid."

Doug smiled and glanced out of the window, seeing Ste make his way through the village.

The weather outside was abysmal. The rain was unrelenting, slashing Ste's face, leaving red, blotchy skin behind in its wake. The wind howled, danced around him, taunted him, tried to pull him this way and that way. Made walking difficult and keeping his coat around him even harder. He shivered and dug his hands deep into his pockets, almost running towards his flat, the onslaught of a brewing storm too harsh for Ste to handle.

When he got inside, he switched the lamp on and the flat was flooded with light but it didn't emit the comforting, warm, amber glow that it used to, but instead it felt harsh, highlighting the corners that were bare, without decorations or children's toys or Brendan's clothes. The flat didn't feel like a home anymore. It hadn't for so long. He threw his keys down on the table and peeled his clothes off, looking around at the bare emptiness. How devoid it was of life and colour. It used to be so busy, so alive, this flat. Ste smiled bitterly to himself, remembering the noises of the children running and giggling. Remembering the sight of the kids falling asleep in Brendan's arms on the sofa. Remembering the smell of musky aftershave that filled the bathroom in the morning when Brendan had to work early. Remembering the times he'd shagged in this room, in every corner of this room. Remembering the way he used to get pinned to these walls and driven right into, bitten, grabbed, licked and fucked. Remembering how he used to love it because it was Brendan and he loved _him. _

He ran a hand through his soaked hair and retreated to the cupboard, finding himself a bottle of whisky and grabbing the pills he had been prescribed by his fucking shrink a few months back when Amy had insisted he had a problem with depression. He carried the bottle and the box into his bedroom and threw them onto his bed, stripping down to his boxers and joining them. He took a swig of the whisky, revelling in the familiarity that it brought with it. The burning sensation and warmth inside of him. The way it tingled on his tongue. He used to explore Brendan's mouth, looking for that taste. He grimaced and swallowed a few of the tablets, feeling dead; emotionless. He was so fucking classy, eh?

All he could think about was Brendan. About how this world wasn't worth living in if he couldn't be with him. Couldn't be near the Irishman. They weren't even breathing the same air anymore and the older man wasn't breathing at all anymore. Soon, he wouldn't be either. If he had his way. He wanted nothing more than to wake up and for this to be a horrible nightmare. For Brendan to be next to him, reading his battered bible, laughing at him and then soothing him to sleep, holding him. But he knew that wouldn't happen. He'd woken up from enough nightmares to know that Brendan wouldn't even be there if it was.

With the bottle of whisky nearly empty and the whole packet of pills washed away, Ste lay back in the bed, curled up on what used to be Brendan's but was so often occupied by a stranger falling asleep after climaxing inside of Ste's worthless body and closed his eyes. He felt sick and dizzy but warm. Like he knew it would be gone soon and he would be safe. He sighed and whimpered, noticing how taking breaths was harder. It felt as if it actually took effort to make his heart beat and he was sure it was getting slower. _Thud thud, thud thud…. Thud thud….. thud….thud…._

He felt something warm touch him. A hand brushing through the front of his hair, caressing his cheek and falling down to his lips, a thumb gliding over his bottom lip. It reminded him of something. But he couldn't work out what. He breathed calmly and suddenly, breathing wasn't such a chore anymore. The sound of rain and howling wind had ceased at the window and everything felt okay.

"…You're so stupid, Steven…"

A voice. Calm, collected, loving and so…. So familiar. Ste's eyes snapped open. Brendan was looking at him. He was actually looking at him. It had been so long since he'd been able to look into Brendan's dark blue eyes and run his gaze across his skin. It had been so long since he had admired every wrinkle and imperfection in Brendan's face that made him so goddamn _gorgeous. _Everything was perfectly the way that Ste remembered it – the styled hair above his hair, the suit stretching across his taut muscles, the cross nestled in his chest hair and the moustache stretching across his upper lip, curving around the sides, looked rough to touch but Ste knew better than anyone that it was soft. Tickled even. It was too _real, _too precise for it all to be in Ste's imagination, right?

He sat up a little and stared at the older man, drinking in the sight of him, bathed softly in the glow of the bedside lamp. He couldn't process it. He was talking to him, touching him, looking at him. Ste had missed him so much and now he was here. Was there a mistake? Maybe… maybe he didn't die in that cell. Maybe Cheryl got it all wrong. He was here, now, in Ste's bed and they could be together and the past 2 years didn't matter. They could forget them and go back to where they left off. Where they were just getting started. He reached out a hand and weakly stroked the lapels of Brendan's jacket, whimpering as the fabric moved a little and felt soft under his fingertips. _Felt. _He was actually there.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" It was all he could muster, all he could choke out.

"Hey, don't be sorry…" Brendan gave him a warm smile and caressed his skin, watching him with a soft, loving gaze.

"I thought…" Ste stammered; his whole body seemingly alive again. He felt excited and happy. The same warm feeling in the base of his stomach that he felt that first night, safe in Brendan's arms, talking too much, needing something to _shut him up. _But this time it was filled with more promise. This time it was filled with love. "I thought I'd never see…"

"I know." Brendan nodded. He swallowed and sighed, a look of sadness and guilt glimmering in the older man's eyes. "I'm sorry." It was Brendan's turn now.

But an apology wasn't what Ste was looking for. He didn't need 'sorry'. "No, I just… I missed you so fucking much…" Ste laughed at himself, at how pathetic he was and he sniffled, blinked, feeling his cheeks dampen with tears he didn't even know he was shedding. Then he felt Brendan's thumb against his skin, rubbing the tears away and he inhaled contently, savouring the warm feeling of the Irishman's touch. A touch he never thought he'd have again.

"I missed ye too." Brendan nodded and Ste shifted closer, longing to be in the man's arms again. Longing to be touched everywhere by him. To be consumed by him. He'd wanted nothing more since he'd been viciously, insensitively dragged away by men just 'doing their job' all those years ago.

"I love you, Brendan…" Ste smiled and stopped himself from crying more than he already was. It was happy tears, wasn't it? He didn't have to take any more of the pills, didn't have to drink any more of the whisky because he didn't need to die. He had Brendan and he was complete as long as he had him. They could survive the harshest of times as long as they had each other, right?

"I love ye too, Steven." Brendan nodded and looked down, taking a breath before meeting Ste's unrelenting gaze yet again. Like he was building himself up to tell Ste something. "You're so….stupid…"

"I know." Ste nodded and smiled. "But… I'll be okay, won't I? I mean, I'm okay now…"

Brendan just watched him and there was something in the Irishman's gaze that told him otherwise. Like there was something that Brendan didn't have the guts to tell him. But Ste knew, he decided. Deep down, somewhere, he knew the truth. And it scared him but it was okay because Brendan was here. He was actually _here. _

"Steven…" Brendan inhaled, hesitated. "You're gonna stay with me now…I'm gonna look after ye…"

He nodded and lay back because he believed him. He actually believed him. Brendan would keep him safe, he'd hold him and protect him and look after him. He knew that Brendan would keep to his word, he always did. He never let him down, not ever. Not including when he had to go to prison. But Ste didn't even want to think about that. He didn't have to. Because Brendan was here with him and that's all that mattered. He could just forget about all the bad stuff.

Brendan shrugged his suit jacket off and crawled on top of him, Ste staring up at him. He smiled lazily and watched the Irishman, studied him, adoring every inch of the sight of him because it had been so long. It felt like eternity. Ste watched as Brendan leaned in and kissed him, his moustache tickling his upper lip, his lips soft against his. He parted his lips and let Brendan's tongue slide into his mouth, savouring that familiar taste. Whisky tingling his tongue. They kissed for what felt like an eternity too and it was funny because all of a sudden, Ste couldn't keep hold of time. It meant nothing. It seemed to slip away and mix up every time he tried to count the seconds. He couldn't work out if they were kissing for 5 seconds or 5 minutes. He pulled back and grinned cheekily up at the older man, the bedside lamp bathing them both. It was brighter than Ste remembered. He was sure he'd got a dim bulb so that it made his bedroom cosy and easier to doze off in but this light felt brighter. Not harsher, just brighter. He inhaled, finally content and wrapped his arms around the older man, pulling him down so he was lay down. In his boxers. He must have taken Brendan's clothes off but he didn't really remember doing it. He nestled himself in Brendan's arms and played with the hairs on his chest, feeling more at peace now than he ever had. Tomorrow, he didn't have to go and face that bleak, boring mundane world that haunted him every day, did he? No more customers dragging fake smiles out of him. No more mind-numbing working of the coffee machine or pretending to Doug like he cared about him and John Paul. Tomorrow it was just him and Brendan in bed together. And he bet tomorrow would feel like forever.

He blinked and closed his eyes, resting his head on Brendan's chest. Not seeking out Brendan's heartbeat like he usually did. He just stayed; comfortable, peaceful and caressed Brendan's skin with his hand.

"You don't ever have to go anywhere, okay, Steven…?" Brendan told him, hushed. "It's just ye and me…. Ye don't ever have to do anything stupid like that ever again."

"You talk too much, Brendan…" Was all Ste could manage before he was asleep in Brendan's arms and the colours of the room washed away into nothingness. Just him and Brendan.

Doug and John Paul found Ste in his flat at 8.02 the next morning. There was nothing anyone could do to save him. It was far too late. And Doug decided, on a whim, that it was probably a good thing that they couldn't drag Ste back into a world he didn't want to be in anymore.


End file.
